


Rite of Passage

by Glorfindel



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Battle, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Coup de grâce, First Crush, Horror, Humor, M/M, Suspense, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glorfindel/pseuds/Glorfindel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil has nightmares in which he dreams his death - one so horrific that in his dreams he kills himself. His parents are not much help. They believe their son is nervous about his approaching passage into adulthood, especially as Thranduil has no idea whom he will ask to teach him about the arts of love on his fiftieth begetting day.</p><p> </p><p>Baradhu, the Captain of The Guard, suggests that Thranduil should face his fears and go on his first long range patrol to the very place where his nightmare occurs. A party of warriors has already left to meet Lord Gildor and his Wanderers and are well overdue to return.</p><p> </p><p>Will Thranduil keep his lifelong friends or will they fall away? Why is Thranduil’s horse named Camel Toe? What is the white stuff over the tree trunks?  What is Gildor’s favourite handicraft? What was the origin of the name ‘Legolas’? Just how many eyes does a spider have?  What does a spider keep in its larder – a few spiced buns and a pot of jam perhaps?</p><p> </p><p>Nothing ever happens in the Greenwood. </p><p> </p><p>Nothing until now....<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silken Bonds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erulisse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erulisse/gifts).



> This story was beta'd by the lovely Keiliss :)
> 
> Written for Erulisse who wanted Thranduil/Gildor.  
> Erulisse's Request: Story elements = How and where did they meet? What caused them to come together? Is this an ongoing affair or just a one-time instance? Make it work!  
> Do NOT include = I'm pretty open, but if you write NC-17, write it well. I'm picky about sexual situations and they need to be realistic. No flights of butterflies, but hot and erotic is good.

.

 

 

 

‘At least I am still alive.’ My mind raced in all directions, but that was my uppermost thought.

 

 

Moving was difficult and there was an odd bubbling feeling in my abdomen. If I really strained, the fingers of my left hand could just brush the hilt of the dagger strapped to my left calf. So near! Damn the silken bounds that encased my unwilling body! Finer than the hair on dandelion seeds, yet stronger than mithril. A minute spark of optimism suggested that the deceptively soft entombment could be impervious to the attentions of the dread creature who had wrapped me in it. A blow of pessimism countered the tiny vein of hope with the knowledge that of course it could, and I would at one point be a living dinner.

 

 

A rotted and cloyingly sweet miasma hung in the darkness. The pungent scent of death permeated my senses, filling me with the utmost horror.  There is a primal revulsion when one encounters such assaults to the senses. Every fibre of my being urged that I should escape from a horror worse than death. Through the almost transparent silk covering, I glimpsed the outline of a row of grey cocoons lined against the earthen walls. Hope rose in my breast and I called softly. No answer came. Were the occupants dead, or still waiting to stir into consciousness?

 

 

The darkness was an almost physical presence. Such a place could not exist within the light, of that I was sure. A few feet in front of me the darkness bulged, as if something large and bulbous stood guard. The black mass shifted slightly and a shaft of light shot through, only to disappear a split second later. Before me was a dread creature beyond my worst imaginings. Quiet and unspeakable terror consumed every pore. Surely death by my own hand was preferable to the attentions of the vile spawn of Morgoth before me.

 

 

A noise like the rasping of a saw broke the silence. As the mass moved, the light shone through. My prison was an underground lair. Beyond the rim were trees, fresh and laden with spring flowers. The juxtaposition of dark and light, of sweet woodland aromas and the fetid odour of death, was obscene. Above was the place where the creature sprang at us, taking us by surprise. We never knew that such things existed. How could we fight that of which we had no knowledge or preparation?

 

 

The huge spider turned its massive bulk, displacing some hanging detritus from the ceiling, which fell onto the spiked hairs on its massively swollen abdomen. Huge mandibles grated together; the saw like noise grew nearer, yet I was not the focus of the dread creature’s attention. At the end of the line of cocoons was an older one, greyer than the rest and stained dark in the middle. It moved slightly. As the spider advanced towards it the movements from within became more frantic. The mandibles speared the middle of the cocoon and the elf inside screamed. I stared with voyeuristic fascination, spellbound and horrified, a cold sweat forming beads on my forehead and chills thrilling down my spine. The terrible screams rent the air, subsiding into exhausted, agonised moans when the monster stopped feeding. It occurred to me that the spider had fed more than once from the same victim. Escape was more urgent than ever.

 

 

The line of cocoons remained silent. Were they unconscious or silent in terror, trying not to draw attention to themselves? Shifting with the grace that large creatures unexpectedly display when sense says they should not, the spider moved along the line, the pedipalp feelers stroking along each cocoon before moving onto the next one. Was it testing for signs of life? Could it feed only from a victim that was alive? Filled with horror and dread, my movements became more frantic, but to no avail. Eventually it stood before my silken imprisonment, the obscene arachnid face impassive and staring, its malevolent eyes showing no hint of intention. Just above my face, the feelers tore a hole through the webbing.  I admit losing self-control. A wet warmth flowed down my legs. The bubbling feeling in my abdomen grew stronger and there was the feeling of pressure, but it was not painful. No doubt, I was full of wind because of the noxious miasma threading through the pit. It had to be the reason, anything else I could not countenance. The spider stroked its feeler along the cocoon, looking thoughtful, as if it could. All the time my nerves were heightened by the sawing noise and I imagined the feelers tearing a hole in the midsection and the creature feeding from my entrails. Not daring to breathe, I looked desperately to the cocoon the spider had just assaulted.  I am ashamed to admit that I wished it to go back there. I had to kill myself; escape was impossible.

 

 

The vile creature moved away. I allowed myself to breathe. The spider had slit the webbing widthways over my face. When I tried the same, lower down, the lateral strands separated easily but I still could not break them. I had been unable to separate them before and wondered what it must mean now that I could. Had the spider weakened the bonds with its feelers, or was there some other sinister process at work?

 

 

A long, shattering scream tore through the sawing darkness. The mandibles stopped grating and all was silent. Then another drawn out scream, followed by pleas for Lord Námo to take his fëa. My head jerked to the side. One of the cocoons writhed and twisted before suddenly erupting, splashing blood across the cocoons to either side of it. The occupant within writhed in agony. Eventually the moans and the movements stilled. I could hear the last dying breaths. Arasdir, my childhood friend, was dead. With the utmost revulsion, I watched the reason for his death. Unimaginable horror consumed me as a black mass of tiny shapes swarmed from the cocoon and joined the huge black spider before them. She turned her unwieldy bulk and pulled the cocoon free from the line. The spiderlings jumped from their mother’s back and feasted upon my friend. The bubbling within my belly grew stronger. As the tears tracked down my cheeks, I knew what it must mean.

 

 

The weakening bonds were still too strong to break, but my range of movement was more than before. Trying not to draw attention from the foul hatchlings still feasting on the dead body of my friend, I was able to pull the dagger free from the strap around my calf. The spiderlings stopped eating and focussed upon me. Tiny staring eyes gazed malevolently. They would not take the killing of their premature siblings without a fight. I knew the nature of what grew inside me. Already damned, I could choose to die by my own hand or let them rip my insides to shreds, enduring unimaginable agony before the welcome release of death.

 

 

The tip of the dagger pushed just under the breastbone. A large blood vessel throbbed below the thin sheet of muscle. When it was cut there would be no saving my life. They would not use me. They would not decide my death. The bubbling grew stronger, as if the occupants within had gauged my intentions. Let them be terrified and know what it feels like to die. Unripe and unready to be born, they would never have life. I would die within seconds.

 

 

The mother spider carefully advanced, her mandibles held straight, tips dripping green poison. Holding the hilt of the dagger, as if feeling it for the first time, I cried out to Lord Námo to take my fëa before driving the blade into my body.

 

 

Then I woke up.

 

 


	2. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The room was deserted and had the slight chill of an early spring night.

 

 

“Ada, I had that dream again.” My father, King Oropher, lay sleeping. His blond braid was pinned high on his head. He always wore it like that due to an incident a few years before when he woke up in a panic and unable to breathe. He suspected my mother, but said nothing to her lest she see that a tight rope of hair coiled around his throat bothered him. Arranged marriages are not always the happiest and the one my parents endured was no exception.  “ADA!”

 

 

“Oropher! Wake up!” Nana demanded shrilly. She shook his shoulder violently. “Thranduil has had a bad dream again.” She looked at me accusingly.  “Pull yourself together, Thranduil. You are nearly fifty years old. Valar forbid that anything ever happens to us – you would be king. Who would you wake to talk about your dreams then?”

 

 

“Maybe I will have a wife?”

 

 

“What do I have to do to have an unbroken night,” Ada yelled at Nana. “If it isn’t him having nightmares, it’s you screeching like a cat that’s just had a spike shoved up its arse.”

 

 

“So coarse. You wouldn’t talk in front of your courtiers like that, so why in front of me? What sort of example are you setting for Thranduil?” Nana glared disapprovingly before turning her back on him. “I don’t know what my parents saw in you when they chose you to be my husband. If only they could hear how you go on.”

 

 

“Really? I wonder what I did to upset my parents so much they picked you to be my wife.”

 

 

“Being born, I would say,” Nana shot back.

 

 

They always argued like that in private, so I took no notice of them. They seemed perfectly amicable when in public, but they fooled no one. Everyone knew it was an act for the court and nothing more, mainly because when they really argued they made so much noise one would have to be deaf not to hear them.

 

 

“Come on Thranduil,” Ada said wearily as he rose from his side of the bed. “I am obviously not meant to have a good night’s sleep ever in my life.” He aimed the jibe at my mother before walking from the room. I followed behind. Nana called that he should not wake her when he came back to bed or else he would pay for it the next day. “I have paid every single day since we married,” Ada shouted back before slamming the door behind us.

 

 

We walked into the informal sitting room. Only family were allowed in there, plus the usual servants that hover when one is royal and cannot do anything for themselves. The room was deserted and had the slight chill of an early spring night.

 

 

“Was it spiders again?” Ada asked as he poured wine into two glasses. He handed one to me. “Here, have this. Don’t tell your nana.”

 

 

“Every time I have the dream it becomes more real. Last night I killed myself because a load of spiders were about to explode out of my belly.” I hesitated, knowing that Ada would not believe for a moment the theory I had formulated. “I think the dreams are a warning.”

 

 

“Really? What sort of warning? Not to eat cheese just before bed perhaps?”

 

 

“ADA! I am serious. Arasdir was in my dream as well. He died and I had to kill myself. Why aren’t you taking this more seriously?”

 

 

“There is no such thing as giant spiders. Certainly not in the Greenwood,” Ada tried to sound consoling. “Now, let’s talk about happier things. Have you chosen someone to teach you the arts of love on your fiftieth begetting day?”

 

 

“There is nobody I really like,” I replied.

 

 

“You had better pick someone. Your nana and I will not lose face because our son wishes to remain a virgin. It simply is not the done thing. Imagine the scandal, not to mention your nana blaming it all on me.” Ada drank the last of the wine in his glass before reaching for the half-empty wine bottle.

 

 

“How would it be your fault?”

 

 

“It would not be my fault, but your nana will say it is. If it rains, I get the blame. You know what she is like.” Ada sighed, wistfully. “That spider in your dreams would get on well with her.”

 

 

My parents seemed to bicker all the time and I was used to it. It was useless protesting and so I did not. “Ada, the spider was living in a hole just south of East Bight.”

 

 

 

“Well, I suppose if a spider was going to live anywhere it would be there,” Ada chuckled. He ruffled my hair. “Thranduil, it is normal to have nightmares when you are approaching your coming of age. You will have new responsibilities and life will be different. Are you worried about becoming an adult?”

 

 

“No, not at all. I am worried about being captured by a huge spider and my body being used to incubate its offspring. Why don’t you ever take me seriously?”

 

 

“That’s enough.” Ada stood up. “Back to bed.” He took my wineglass and put it on the table.”For once in her life, your nana is right. My personal healer will attend to you and find the underlying cause of these nightmares. Your healer doesn’t seem to know what he is doing, so you can see my one instead.”

 

 

 

 


	3. Stand With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My finger pointed to just below the square indentation of deforestation made by the Northmen.

 

 

Ada’s personal healer shook his head. “I really do think that your problems stem from your innate fear of becoming an adult and taking on additional responsibilities.” We sat on chairs facing each other. He stared at me as if making some sort of judgement and finding me lacking. I wondered just how much my ada confided in this elf.

 

 

“I do not fear becoming an adult,” I protested. “Why would you think that?”

 

 

The healer appeared sympathetic and sighed. “It must be hard for you, growing up in an environment where there is so much friction...”

 

 

I walked out of the room, shaking my head. The healer did not try to call me back. It was as though he expected me to storm off. An idea formed in my head that I should ask the Captain of the Guard if there were any reports of spiders near East Bight. That seemed a more profitable use of my time.

 

 

The warrior training grounds were to the left of the palace, if one left by the back door. I ran as fast as I could, though not because I felt any urgency about my endeavour. Those who run are least likely to be stopped and asked where they are going. In a small clearing ringed by several huge chestnut trees, a few of the courtiers were playing the new game of ‘bat and ball and running in a circle’, which unofficially has been named ‘Rounders’, and I did not want them to implore me to join in. It was etiquette that I be a personable young prince and pursue fashionable courtly pastimes, but if I was running, they might assume I was on an urgent mission. No doubt, my parents would be informed at some point.

 

 

The Captain of the Guard’s door was open, and so I walked in. He looked up and smiled. “There is no training today, Prince Thranduil. I must say you are very keen.”

 

 

I like Baradhu. He is not a simpering halfwit, like many of the courtiers in the palace pretended to be.

 

 

“I need to know if there are any giant spiders near East Bight.” I sat opposite him and looked at the map of the Greenwood splayed out on his desk. “Just around there.” My finger pointed to just below the square indentation of deforestation made by the Northmen. “Have any of the patrolling warriors seen anything untowards?”

 

 

Baradhu looked perturbed. “The patrol scouting the area around East Bight has not returned yet. They should have arrived back two days ago. On the other hand, they are meeting Lord Gildor and his Wandering Folk, so they are probably having a wonderful time. Of course, it is possible that Lord Gildor is late and they have to wait.”

 

 

“It is usual to send a report back, if that is the case.”

 

 

Baradhu nodded. “Yes, it is. Maybe the returning elf has run into difficulties. Or maybe my warriors are having too much fun and need to remember where their responsibilities lie.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Why spiders?”

 

 

I told Baradhu about my dream. He did not laugh; however, he did not believe that giant spiders lived in the Greenwood because he had seen no evidence for it. On the other hand, the human settlements were becoming sparse and some dwellings appeared almost as if the occupants had left in a hurry, without taking anything. No one had thought the mystery worth investigating, because truth be told my ada was glad to see the back of them. He considered them uncultured and boorish, probably because of the damage they had done to the forest and their refusal to stop. Privately, I wondered if Ada had ordered that they be driven from their homes. He was certainly capable of doing so.

 

 

“Perhaps you should face your fears and go with the next patrol to the East Bight area,” Baradhu suggested. “If the last patrol is not back by tomorrow, I will be sending another one out to see where they are. It might do your group of friends good to go on a long-range patrol, including Arasdir. I doubt he will suffer the horrible fate in your dream though, at least I hope not. His nana would certainly have something to say if he did. ”

 

 

“Good idea,” I replied. Baradhu made more sense than any of the other elves I had spoken to; probably because he never observed court etiquette to any great degree. His advice came from a standpoint that was both practical and honest without being bound with the desire to please. “Put me down for it.”

 

 

“I will inform the King that you are going on the next patrol so you can face your fears,” Baradhu said, smiling slightly. “If I present it as a rite of passage type of experience I am sure he will agree to it.”

 

 

“Good idea,” I replied excitedly. “Nana and Ada are bound to agree. They talk about me becoming an adult to the exclusion of almost everything else at the moment.”

 

 

“I am sure it is the influence of that dreadful book ‘Stand With Me’. The whole court is discussing it, including your parents. It’s bound to have coloured their ideas about your coming begetting day.” Baradhu shook his head and tutted.

 

 

The light dawned in my mind. “Yes, you must be right. Nana and Ada have been much more insistent about my journey into becoming an elf since reading that book. We can take advantage of their enthusiasm.”

 

 

 “You have no idea how much trouble that book has caused. I am under pressure by quite a few of the courtiers to send their offspring on bonding experiences that will ease their passage into adulthood and give them the opportunity to form friendships that last the rest of their lives. Why should I do their job for them? It’s just sheer laziness.” He looked at me and smiled. “I am happy to say that your parents are not of that number.”

 

 

I have never read the book in question, but it is so popular that I know the plot inside out. Four elflings in their early forties have separate problems of their own. One is vastly overweight, as if that could ever happen. Another one is so into reading books that he is teased for having no life, which is silly because he was out with his friends, so he must have had some life at any rate. Another is troubled by his parents’ awful marriage and wants to become a counsellor, and the other is shy and wants to be a writer. All the characters seem like caricatures. My parents thought I was being unduly harsh and asked what I would know, being still an elfling. Anyway, the four elflings go on a camping trip together and find the body of a dead elfling, reported missing a week before. They saw the tip of a shoe before finding his body behind a bush. The elflings get up to all sorts of adventures, all the time becoming more reliant on each other and emotionally closer. The story ends with them being pursued by a gang of rowdy, violent elves who have just passed their majority and want the elflings to tell them where the dead body is so they can get the reward money. They escape and the rowdy elves are rounded up and put in the dungeons, where they betray each other because they do not know the real meaning of friendship and loyalty. It is pure fantasy, but my parents and their courtiers loved it. All of a sudden, the whole court considers themselves expert on the trials of being an elfling approaching adulthood. If I ever get to be king, I am going to ban stupid books!

 

 


	4. A Glass of Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I heard him throwing his shoes at Nana’s dressing table.

 

 

I knew my parents would agree to me going on patrol. So they did not become suspicious, I made out that I was only slightly looking forward to going. We sat in the family living room on a long leather sofa that was slightly curved so we could see each other. In front of us was an intricately carved oak table holding a bottle of vintage Greenwood Vale and three glasses.

 

 

“It will be good to face your fears. When you see that giant spiders do not exist your nightmares should stop. Anyway, it will be a good bonding experience for you and your chums. This is an important time in your life. The elflings you are friends with now will be so for the rest of your life.” Nana hugged me and beamed happily. It was most odd but she smelt of spiced apples and leather. “You really are turning out to be a responsible young elf. I am so proud of you.” Nana kissed my forehead. “Ada is going to pour you a glass of wine. I know you have not drunk alcohol before, and it is not permitted until you are fifty, but this is a special occasion. You are going to go on a long range patrol tomorrow and you will be doing the things that adult elves do. You may even get into a real fight.”

 

 

“It is good for Thranduil to try wine before his begetting day,” Ada said to Nana, no doubt steering the conversation away from what could happen. “I wouldn’t want him to get squiffy on his begetting day because he misjudged just how strong it is.” He handed the glass to me. “Here you are. Do not drink it too quickly. Wine should be sipped, not quaffed.” He sat beside me and smiled innocently, while nana looked on approvingly.

 

 

“My first glass of wine,” I lied. “I have always wondered what it tasted like. I am overjoyed that I am tasting it at long last.” I tittered, more so after Ada kicked his foot against my ankle. I took a sip and swallowed.

 

 

“Do you like it?” Nana asked, her face hopeful.

 

 

“It’s quite nice,” I replied. It tasted nicer than the wine Ada occasionally gave me.

 

 

“I think it would be a good idea for Thranduil to experience a hangover so he learns firsthand why he should drink in moderation,” Ada said.

 

 

“Happily, there is a vast difference between what you think should happen and what will actually happen,” Nana replied, a victorious smirk on her face.

 

 

“Then my dear, do not get too upset when he learns on his begetting day, just like you did.” Ada stood up and smirked at my dumbstruck nana. He smoothed a crease from the front of his dark green robe and announced that he was going to bed.

 

 

“Take no notice of your ada,” Nana said consolingly. “He sometimes gets these silly ideas. He means well, but he often gets things wrong.”

 

 

“Ada must have something going for him,” I replied. “He managed to convince a whole load of elves that he should be their king, and they agreed.”

 

 

“Thranduil, your ada is extremely good at leading others. He is probably the best elf anywhere to be a king; however, when it comes to family he sometimes has silly ideas. If you had a hangover you might be too ill to go on patrol tomorrow.” Nana stood up. “Time for bed. Sleep well.”

 

 

“I did not mean you should get drunk tonight, Thranduil,” Ada called from the bedroom. “Unlike your nana, who probably will.” I heard him throwing his shoes at Nana’s dressing table. He always did that when he was annoyed with her. Happily, she kept nothing on it. “After all dear, that’s why you snore so loudly. Isn’t it?”

 

 

Nana sighed. “I wish your ada was going with you. With any luck he might actually meet a giant spider.”

 

 

“I heard that, you old harpy,” Ada called. He sounded amused.

 

 

“You were meant to,” Nana shouted back.

 

 

 


	5. Camel Toe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I slept like a log, so much so that I was nearly mistaken for a piece of wood.”

 

 

It was odd but my parents did not argue after going to bed. Perhaps they were in agreement that I needed a good night’s sleep and they should be quiet for a change. Anyway, I woke up in the morning, having not had the spider nightmare, and felt refreshed for the first time in several weeks.

 

 

After a quick body wash, I put my clothes on and ran into my parents’ bedroom. Neither was awake. “Come on, time to get up.”

 

 

Neither of them wanted to wake up, but after several more jolly encouragings from myself they stirred reluctantly. Both professed to having not slept well, but neither could define the reason why. I suspect they were not so keen for me to go on a long-range patrol now that the day was finally here. I am their only son and if anything happened to me, they would be left bereft. Moreover, I am their only heir, which would mean having to make a new one, something I doubt either of my parents wanted to do.

 

 

Nana and Ada dressed silently, hardly saying anything at all, which was most unusual for them. Normally one of them would manage to get a jibe in at the other before leaving for breakfast. I waited outside, not wishing to see either of them in any state of undress, partial or otherwise.

 

 

We trooped down to breakfast, looking every inch the happy family. Ada led the Morning Prayer to the Valar while the waiters served the breakfasts. Ada spoke noticeably quicker once his plate was before him; he hates food that has been allowed to cool.

 

 

I tucked in to bacon, egg, fried bread, beans in a buttery tomato sauce, mushrooms, baked tomatoes and thinly sliced fried potatoes. Afterwards I ate several slices of toast covered with plum jam, accompanied by several cups of black herbal tea.

 

 

“I feel like an elf again,” Ada said happily, as he poured his third cup of tea. The waiter took away his empty plates.

 

 

“Yes, you were so tired this morning that I was rather concerned about you,” Nana said sweetly. Had they been on their own in the royal apartment, she would have flung an insult at him.

 

 

“My night was somewhat unsettled,” Ada said, smiling at nana as if he adored her. “I trust I did not keep you awake?”

 

 

“With you by my side I always enjoy the most perfect sleep, dear husband,” Nana replied, smiling as if she hero-worshipped my Ada, which she most certainly did not.

 

 

“Then I am filled with the utmost happiness that I did not disturb you.” He drank some of his tea, his eyes quite clearly avoiding hers. He did not seem happy at all, even though there was a fixed upturn at each end of his lips.

 

 

Nana smiled graciously before looking up at the waiter and thanking him for the small plate of apple pastries he set before her. “How did you sleep, Thranduil?” she asked before biting into a pastry.

 

 

“I slept really well,” I replied enthusiastically. Nana and Ada looked at me suspiciously. “I slept like a log, so much so that I was nearly mistaken for a piece of wood.”

 

 

Nana laughed politely. “Did you hear that, Oropher? Thranduil slept so well he was nearly mistaken for a piece of wood. I shall miss his humour when he is on patrol.”

 

 

“Yes, my dear,” Ada replied, his face smiling at least. “He always has you in such fits of laughter.” A few of the couriers at the table laughed politely but it was clear my joke had fallen flat. It mattered not; I was going on an adventure and they would be staying at home. I bet they were all secretly quite jealous.

 

 

After breakfast, we went out into the courtyard where the patrol was gathering. My best friend, Arasdir, called to me. My horse, Camel Toe, which he assured me was the name Lord Oromë had chosen for him, was waiting beside my friend’s mare, Strawberry Sunset. I still wonder why Lord Oromë would name any horse after another animal. My Ada initially refused to call him Camel Toe, saying it was not right that a horse was named after the appendage of another species; however, Lord Oromë told him in a dream that he had to call my horse by his proper name, or else, and so he did, albeit reluctantly.

 

 

Like any patrol we carried out own luggage with us. My backpack contained: a length of light rope, one bedroll with blanket; one change of clothing; flints and wool, for lighting fires; a cheese-wire for slitting throats; two emergency daggers; bandages and healing salves; several pieces of waybread; a fork, spoon and plate, and some gold coins. Two full water bottles hung from my front. A sword; several daggers; a bow and quiver, and a slingshot were fixed to my belt and a shield was slung over by back. I was ready for war!

 

 

Behind us was a cart filled with food, pots and pans. We would use the supplies first and then leave the cart when we ran out, to collect it later on the way back. We could eat the waybread when that happened or, as they did in some of the patrols, we could share out the cooking implements and fix them to our horses.

 

 

Ada hugged me. “Remember, this is your first ever long range patrol. Do as your leader tells you and do not try any heroics. There is time for that sort of thing when you are older. Let the older elves guide you. They are more experienced and can literally save your life if need be.”

 

 

“Your ada is right. You are a prince here, but on patrol you are just a junior warrior who should follow the lead of the others,” Nana said as she hugged me hard.

 

 

“It’s not like I have never been on patrol before,” I protested; neither seemed to want to relinquish their eye-wateringly firm hugs. “You have never had any complaints about me so far.”

 

 

“Long range patrols are different,” Ada said. Not surprisingly, Nana agreed with him. She said that I could not really get into any danger or difficulties on short-range patrols but long-range ones could be quite perilous at times.

 

 

“Take care of yourself,” Nana said fondly. “I will pray to Lord Tulkas every night you are away. He will keep his eye on you.” She bit her lip, as if filled with some impending, inner grief. “I love you. Stay safe and do as you are told.”

 

 

“Everything your Nana said,” Ada said fondly. He has never been able to express his emotions with the same abandon as my nana has. “When you see Lord Gildor, greet him properly. Try to forget that he sent you a set of macramé covered bookends for your last begetting day. That’s what being a prince is about, among other things.” He turned to my mother. “We must remember to hang that beaded picture of the green skinned lady with the black hair he made for us.”

 

 

Nana shook her head. “The servants can get it out of storage,” she sighed. “It goes straight back when he has gone.”

 

 

“Absolutely,” Ada agreed, seeming horrified at the implication that it could stay up longer than it needed to. “Still, it’s not as bad as the embroidered ‘Present from Mithlond’ tea towel he sent you.”

 

 

Nana chuckled. “As if I would use a tea towel. I wondered what he was thinking.”

 

 

“He probably thought you would hang it on the wall,” I suggested. The look of panicked horror on my parents’ faces was priceless.

 

 

“Do you have any idea where you threw it?” Ada asked. Nana nodded. “We had better find it before he gets here.”

 

 

“Order!” came the command from the Captain of the Guard heading up the front. I was somewhere in the middle to keep me safe because I was one of the six juniors allowed to accompany the seasoned long-range warriors. I did not think it odd at the time that the most excellent warriors  in the kingdom were all travelling as part of our patrol, normally they would be split up, but this time they were together. I did not know then what I know now.

 

 

We headed off on our great adventure, our parents waving us farewell. I looked at Arasdir, who grinned with excitement, and hoped that my dream would never come true.

 

 

 


	6. Sunbeams and Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could not tell him of the terrible death he would endure if my dream came true.

 

 

The forest floor was dappled with sunbeams and shadows. Strong beams shone through the budding leafy branches of the tall trees. In the next day or so the spring flowers would burst into bloom and the trees would be covered in white, yellow and pink blossoms; truly Spring was the prettiest time of the year.

 

 

No speaking was allowed on patrol once we crossed the palace bounds. Our horses moved as silently as they could and we said not a word. Even clearing the throat was discouraged, but we still did it. As we moved further away from the palace the forest seemed to grow thicker, and there was an air of possible danger because of the unfamiliarity of the place. A wolf stood for a split moment in a small clearing before running away. It seemed terrified. The look of surprise on the face of the warrior beside me indicated that it was unusual for a wolf to look so; however, he said nothing. I do not remember seeing any other forest animals during our journey.

 

 

We rode around forty miles the first day, following the tracks made by the previous patrol. There was no sight or sound of them. We stopped in a clearing and dismounted our horses. Quietly, the more experienced warriors sat down, pulled out their waybread and began to eat. There was no small bonfire for cooking, as there were on the short range patrols, and the ban on talking was still in place.

 

 

I looked questioningly at Baradhu. “The forest does not feel right,” he whispered. “Now is not the time for cooking and singing songs around a fire. Sit down and eat your waybread and stay silent.”

 

 

I did as I was told without argument. Baradhu looked on approvingly before joining a couple of the older warriors. They whispered, with heads held closely together, and looked as if in the process of agreeing something. When they split up they whispered to the other warriors and it looked as if they were agreeing things with them too. Arasdir looked at me and I looked at him, neither of us daring to say a word.

 

 

Baradhu kneeled in front of us and spoke softly, “Get your bedrolls out and go to sleep. Keep your clothing on, just in case we have to pack up and move quickly. We will take turns at guarding the camp. Make the most of this; on your next long range patrol you will both have to take your turn on sentry duty.”He walked off to tell the other junior warriors the same message.

 

 

Arasdir and I pulled out our bedrolls and climbed into them. The air was beginning to grow chilly. Camel Toe lay down beside me. It felt comforting that his huge bulk was beside me.

 

 

“Do you think the warriors are doing this to scare us?”Arasdir whispered.  I nodded in agreement and smiled before closing my eyes to sleep. I could not tell him of the terrible death he would endure if my dream came true.

 

 

The next day we made our way to East Bight. There was no sign of the patrol, but at the entrance to a clearing just before the rim of the forest, we saw an abandoned cart, still packed with provisions. I thought it odd that no wild animal had pillaged it for the provisions within, in fact we had seen hardly any since leaving the palace bounds. The warriors were worried and herded us younger ones into the middle of the group, warning us that we should keep our eyes open, looking to the sides and up and down. Overnight the trees had burst into flower. It seemed incongruous that danger could be lurking among such delightfully fresh and pretty scenery.

 

 

 


	7. Upturned Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He spoke swiftly and with an urgency that filled my being with the utmost trepidation.

 

 

 

In the clearing, at the Southern edge of the deforested rim of East Bight, were several upturned trees. The Northmen never pulled a tree down so that the roots were exposed, preferring to cut them down nearer the base instead. As far as my eyes could see, there were many more trees that had been pulled out by their roots and they seemed to be in a wide-ranging circle around the clearing and just beyond. Baradhu dismounted his horse and peered closely at one of the trees. Several large gouges ran crosswise from the centre of the trunk. He skimmed the pearlescent surface of the indentations before pulling his hand away hurriedly. Several long silken strands hung from his fingers. He looked at me in horror, before jumping back onto his horse.

 

 

“Whatever caused this is not far away. There may be more than one.” Baradhu moved his horse next to mine. “Do you recognise this part of the forest? Was it in your dream?” He spoke swiftly and with an urgency that filled my being with the utmost trepidation.

 

 

“I can hear elves approaching,” one of the warriors said softly, before I could reply. “They are a large number.”

 

 

Baradhu nodded. “Perhaps they are Lord Gildor’s company.” He looked at me. “Your ada was sufficiently concerned by your dream to insist on only the most experienced warriors going on this patrol. He also told them why.” He turned his attention to the other junior warriors. “The Valar sent Prince Thranduil a dream. A giant spider attacked the patrol, which is why we are here.  We are safe for now because it seems the spider has fed; however, we must find its lair before it grows hungry again. We are facing the utmost danger. Do not try to be heroes, let the more seasoned warriors take control. Look to them for guidance on what to do.”

 

 

“Giant spiders?” Arasdir paled. “You never told me about your dream, and I am your best friend.”

 

 

“Ada forbade me to do so,” I lied quickly. “He is the king, so I have to do as I am told.”

 

 

“In your dream were any of us killed?”

 

 

“Arasdir, stop asking silly questions,” Baradhu snapped. “There is always a risk of being killed on patrol and this one is no different. Just be glad we have so many warriors who know exactly what needs to be done.”

 

 

Arasdir was not happy. He turned his horse away and joined the others. They glared at me, as if it was my fault there was a giant spider on the loose. I am not responsible for the decisions of others and Baradhu told them so. He ordered that they stop being so childish and reminded them that they would soon be adults, where a giant spider would be the least of their worries. I thought he might be minimising somewhat about the spider but said nothing.

 

 

We listened in silence, not moving an inch. The warriors wanted to track the noises of the approaching elves. They hoped the party from Amon Lanc might be with them. I could hear hardly anything, the occasional crack of a twig perhaps, but nothing more. The warriors knew what they were listening for, and after a few minutes one of them cocked his head and announced that he could hear the hoof steps of the Amon Lanc horses.

 

 

Eventually I could hear them. The junior warriors continued to glare at me, so I distanced myself from them and guided my horse nearer to the other warriors, who did not seem to care a jot that they were to face a giant spider. It occurs to me now that they probably did not believe such a thing existed, even though the evidence was plain to see.

 

 

Lord Gildor emerged through the trees first. He greeted us all, a serious expression on his face. “It is a wonder that you are all here,” he said to Baradhu, after greeting me and saying how he was looking forward to my fiftieth begetting day. “One of your horses is missing. Your warriors fled after a giant spider pulled the horse into a hole under an upturned tree.”

 

 

Every sense in my body came alive. Lord Gildor is considered by many to have a magnetic personality and I could see why. He exuded confidence and mystery. His blue-gray eyes looked at mine, with a majesty and poise that I found at once seductive and at the same time presumptuous. I was not yet fifty and yet he looked at me as if I was a potential lover. Perhaps I was dismayed at myself for feeling my first surge of desire for someone much older than me. I have never felt sexually attracted to any elf before and yet I did now. Why did it have to be Lord Gildor, a close friend of my parents?

 

 

“It happened just around here,” one of the warriors from the original patrol said to Baradhu. The previously missing patrol warriors joined our group, looking extremely nervous and wary. Their eyes darted around, as if expecting something huge and horrible to jump suddenly out at them.

 

 

“There are many upturned trees. Could a mass of spiders be living in them? Or do you think that the spider turned over all these trees while looking for the perfect hole?” I needed to ask sensible questions and not fool around, so I could distance myself from my peers, who were agreeing among themselves that I was devious and stupid. One muttered that I always asked, ‘such stupid questions’ and the others tittered.

 

 

“You are all on a charge,” Baradhu said to them. “None of you had the wit or brains to ask such an appropriate question and yet you ridicule your friend who did. I expected better from all of you, especially you, Arasdir. You have all disgraced the realm of Amon Lanc.”

 

 

“They would not survive five minutes in the Wanderers,” Gildor added, without a trace of smugness. “We train elflings from birth. They know how to act properly when defending those precious to us.”

 

 

“Indeed,” Baradhu agreed. He looked scathingly at my five peers, who dared not say a word.

 

 

 

 


	8. The Wanderers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he spoke there came a rumbling beneath our feet.

 

 

 

“We are a large number and we are ready for the fight,” Gildor announced, his arm indicating the size of the crowd behind him. His followers were dressed in light leather armour and armed to the hilt. Most carried long spears, which they also used as walking staffs when not on their horses. Unlike us they carried no possessions on their person; instead they relied upon a series of horse drawn carts guided by the older elflings. They were sandwiched in the middle, for safety. Even though some of them seemed quite young, it was quite clear by the weapons they carried that many had seen action and were indeed ready for it. I looked at the junior warriors and myself, and compared them to the elflings in Gildor’s party; we were distinctly lacking. The smaller elflings walked by the adults and the very young ones were carried in brightly coloured, beaded slings on their parents’ hips.

 

 

“Let us remove the elflings from danger before engaging the dread creature,” Baradhu said softly. As he spoke there came a rumbling beneath our feet. Camel Toe stamped his hooves on the ground with annoyance. He did not like standing around and was ready for action. It is most strange but he actually likes going into battle. Many horses are not so willing, but he absolutely loves it. I have never been in battle before, but Camel Toe has many times, with his former owner. He is a war charger beyond compare, fast, strong, and agile, just the horse to engage in battle. Camel Toe also has a certain something, majesty for want of a better word. Ada called him a ‘king among horses’ when presenting him to me. I just wish he did not have such a silly name.

 

 

“I fear we may be too late,” Gildor said, a strange smile on his face. “The creature is directly beneath our feet, which means it will come up from one of the holes around this clearing. However, I agree that the elflings and their minders should proceed away from here towards Amon Lanc, if it is safe to do so.”

 

 

Baradhu confirmed that we had seen no evidence of the spider on our journey, and so we watched silently as the elfling Wanderers left the clearing with their minders.

 

 

“Could we plug the holes?” I asked as the last of them left. “Perhaps if we can pull the trees back up and tie them to the other trees, we can block the holes in such a way that the spider cannot force them open again. Then we could flush the spider out to where it would be the most advantageous to fight her.”

 

 

“We don’t have enough rope,” Arasdir said contemptuously, his singsong voice causing me to wonder why he was ever my friend. Ada always said whenever we fell out, ‘Never mind you will be best friends again tomorrow’, but I doubted we would ever be again. Arasdir had gone too far.

 

 

“Of course we have enough rope,” Baradhu said. “You all carry a length of rope in your backpacks for personal use, but we have much more in the carts. You would know that, Arasdir, if you paid attention when we packed. Come and see me in my office when we get back.”

 

 

Arasdir shot me a look of pure hate. To be ordered to attend Baradhu’s office was no small thing. Baradhu treated his son the same as any of the other junior warriors and showed him no favour. He was of the opinion that to do so would be letting him down in the end. I was not shown any favour either, something that pleased my parents enormously.

 

 

“Thranduil and his friends will have to work together,” Gildor said. “They can help haul the trees back into position and my warriors will secure them with the rope.” He looked at me and grinned. “Thranduil already knows that the knotwork of the Wanderers is beyond compare.” I smiled politely, as if in agreement, remembering the horrid macramé covered bookends.

 

 

My ex-friends were not happy at having to work with me and protested heavily. “I will report your concerns to the king,” Baradhu said, a grim smile on his face. “None of you knows when to stop, do you? That hole you are all digging for yourselves will soon become bottomless.” He readied his horse, but before turning away, he told them that there would be physical punishment for those who disobeyed his word and a charge of mutiny. The junior warriors looked dumbstruck. Mutiny was punishable by death for elven warriors, for junior warriors it meant being flogged and their training starting over from scratch, with a constant eye kept upon them. I hoped that Baradhu did not mean what he said; I did not like to think of the junior warriors suffering in such a way just because of some silly argument they were having with me.

 

 

 

 


	9. Heave!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We work together or we die. That includes you, little boy.”

 

 

 

We stood by the first tree. My companions looked scared, as if they expected the spider to jump out at any moment. I was probably more terrified than they were. The warriors slung several lengths of rope around the upended trunk of the tree and a couple of lengths just below the spreading branches. We were told to pull the ropes from the root side while the stronger warriors pushed from the other. The earth was soft around the tree roots and it was hard to get a proper footing. I looked around and saw that there were groups around the other trees nearby. We would all be working to a single command, to plug the holes and flush the spider out into the open at the edge of the rim in the only hole left open, just before where the Northmen had cut down the trees.

 

 

We stood quiet and in position. The ends of the rope were wrapped around our arms and our hands held the large knots at the end. “Do not steady yourself by placing a foot on the tree roots,” Duinel, Baradhu’s second in command, advised us. “It is better to slip and be caught by one of your friends than to show your leg to a creature who wants to eat you.”

 

 

“I expect you will be falling down that hole,” Eleredh, one of the junior warriors, hissed at me. “I am not going to catch you.” The others murmured in agreement and smirked.

 

 

Duinel swiftly slapped him across the cheek. “We work together or we die. That includes you, little boy.” She addressed the others. “If I spy any of you not working for the good of the whole I will punish immediately. Part of being a warrior is putting differences aside and working for the good of everyone. If you continue to refuse to be part of the team then you might as well not be alive.” She drew her dagger and mimed a slicing motion across her own throat, so we would know exactly what to expect, before turning to the other warriors who were grinning for all they were worth.

 

 

“You will pay for that,” Eleredh whispered. He should not have been so stupid; Duinel smacked him so hard across the head that he lost his footing and fell down the hole. If I had not been right beside him, he might have ended up as spider bait. I caught him and pulled him towards me, not letting him go until he could find his footing. He was panicking and held onto me for dear life, terrified beyond reckoning. Duinel ordered him to stop his bleatings and pull himself together. It was not lost on any around us that I was the only one of the junior warriors who had attempted to catch him, and I had not let go until he was able to stand by himself. “I still don’t like you,” he said to me. The others looked smugly at me. Eleredh turned to face them. “I don’t like you lot either. You would have let me fall.” It was all right that Eleredh did not like any of us. At least I was not being singled out anymore.

 

 

“Heave!” Baradhu called from his position in the centre of the clearing. “Put your backs into it!”

 

 

We pulled as hard as we could. Duinel came around to our side and helped pull the ropes; none of us were as strong as the warriors pushing the tree. I pulled as hard as I could and so did Eleredh and Arasdir, who seemed to be doing his best to redeem himself now that Baradhu, his ada, was watching him. The others pulled but with more than one eye on their personal safety than that of the team. After Duinel threatened each of them with a smack across the head, they increased their efforts.

 

 

Slowly the tree began to shift. Pulling was hard work, but it must have been harder for the warriors pushing on the other side. The trunk spanned at least five feet in diameter, and was easily over fifty feet high. I wondered again at the strength of the creature who was able to upend it and whether we really did have a chance of killing it. To shift such a tree it had to be massively strong, and yet our tree was one of the smaller ones.

 

 

The base of the tree creaked as it shifted upwards. We could hear a scurrying underground and it seemed to be coming nearer. Never have I known such terror, at least outside of my nightmares. The ground rumbled under the clearing. Baradhu looked around and ran over to join us. He took hold of the ropes with Duinel and pulled, ordering us to stand behind him and pull as well. The trunk gradually rose. So slow was the movement that I could imagine the spider leaping out of the hole in spite of our best efforts.

 

 

A chilling scream came from the next tree, which was being pulled upwards. I did not see what happened but the warriors called that the spider had shot up and grabbed two of their number. “We are going in,” one of them shouted before jumping down the hole. The others followed, about five of them, without waiting for any command from their leader, Lord Gildor.

 

 

“Stay! You cannot help them,” Gildor called. He ran to the edge of the hole and stopped the other warriors from descending. “They are going to a certain death.” He fixed a rope around his waist and gave the ends to two of the warriors, before jumping down the hole. “Come back,” we heard him shout. “You are going to your deaths.” There was no answer. He called some more but to no avail. The ropes jogged and the two warriors lifted him out of the hole. “We are seven warriors down. Such bravery, yet such stupidity.” He looked weary and crushed. “No more heroics. There is to be no more loss of life.” The other warriors murmured in agreement, looking grief stricken and enraged, yet defeated at the same time.  

 

 

Baradhu watched but said nothing. He was not in charge of Gildor’s warriors and so there was nothing he could do except tell us juniors that the warriors had displayed exceptional bravery and were doing their best to take care of one another and the team. Things had gone wrong this time, but it was not always the case. “They might very well get out alive,” Baradhu said. “Although in what condition they will be, I just do not know.”

 

 

We were at a critical point where one lapse could mean the tree toppling back down and crushing the warriors on the other side. “Heave,” Baradhu ordered. We pulled for all we were worth and the tree slowly slotted neatly into the hole, only the damage around the foot betraying that it had ever been on its side. Two warriors climbed the tree, freed the fixing ropes just below the lower branches, and slung them over to the next tree that was standing, where they were tied by Gildor’s warriors. Another set of ropes was secured to another tree in much the same fashion.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Kill Me!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As elves we have such a horror of killing our own kind and yet for some it is a merciful act,”...

 

 

 

 

“That tree is not going to move,” Duinel said after an experimental push. She stepped back to admire our work and shrieked loudly in terrified surprise.

 

 

One moment Duinel was there and the next she was disappearing below the ground. Baradhu caught her braid and pulled upward. She screamed and I saw the end of her sword hacking at something below. Baradhu slung his arm under her shoulder, while Gildor ran over with a length of rope and fastened it around her chest. The warriors pulled with all their might but the creature pulled in the opposite direction. “Kill me,” Duinel implored, her terrified face covered with mud. “It’s in between my legs.” She gave an agonized scream and we saw a huge spike shoot upwards from the ground, covered in her blood and entrails. It all happened so fast that we could not react in time. Gildor drew his dagger as the spike rose. “Kill me,” she cried, her voice weakening. As fast as the spike rose up it shot back down below the ground. Duinel’s eyes rolled upwards, as Gildor drove the blade into the back of her neck. She died instantly and just in time, for the creature pulled so hard that her body disappeared under the ground before we could rescue it.

 

 

I wanted to cry. Never had I seen an elf die so violently and in such terrifying circumstances. “This is the first time you have seen such things,” Gildor said softly as he placed his arm around my shoulders. “But it will not be the last.”

 

 

“It was so sudden,” I replied, my voice shaking. “Thank the Valar you reacted so quickly. Even if all you could do was to kill her. It was certainly better than what the spider would have done to her.”

 

 

“As elves we have such a horror of killing our own kind and yet for some it is a merciful act,” Gildor said sadly. “Duinel’s death was a kinslaying but one I would hope the Valar approved of.”

 

 

“If I am ever in that position...” I began hesitantly.

 

 

“I swear in front of our Lady Elbereth that I will do the same for you. When all hope is lost I will ease the way, no matter how much it hurts me to do so and without taking heed of the consequences of such action.”

 

 

“Thank you. I would not want to suffer as Duinel did.”

 

 

“The attack was so swift that most of the damage was done before I could kill her. Make no mistake, Thranduil, even though it was a merciful death, I have still killed an elf, and that will weigh upon my conscience forever. Such an action is not lightly done, even though it may be the only thing we can do.”

 

 

“You are a great elf and an outstanding leader,” I said, full of admiration for one whom I found I did not know as well as I thought I had.

 

 

Gildor smiled. “Thank you.” He looked towards the hole in the ground, as we all did. “Now what shall we do about plugging that hole?”

 

 

“I have no idea,” I replied, thinking that Gildor might have the answer. He seemed so wise and I reasoned that if he did not know then nobody else would.

 

 

“Neither do I,” Gildor said brightly. “Come on; let’s see if anyone else has a suggestion.”

 

 

“We could plug the last remaining tree hole, where we were going to flush out the spider, and leave this as the remaining hole,” Baradhu suggested. “I would listen at the ground, but the thought of having my head suddenly ripped off doesn’t really appeal to me.”

 

 

“Oddly enough, it doesn’t appeal to me either,” Gildor laughed. It broke the tension, which was what we all needed. “I propose an alternative. Let’s spear the ground to see where it is most likely to break. That way we can map the underground tunnels and hopefully work out where the spider has its base.”

 

 

Each rerooted tree had a warrior standing in front of it, a rope around their chest just in case they fell into a hole. Duinel’s death would not be in vain if we were able to learn lessons from the way she died and prevent further deaths. Slowly they walked forward with elves following behind, holding onto the ropes, and letting them out again with each step of the forward warrior, before stepping forward themselves and retightening the bond. The spears stabbed through the ground and soon a network of tunnels was established that ran across most of the clearing. Happily, it did not extend beyond the edges. The uprooted trees had marked the perimeter of the network. A chill went down my spine when I realised that we had been directly above the creature all the time. That it did not burst through the ground, as it was certainly capable of doing, meant that it had probably eaten the horse and was resting until it was time to kill again. If it stayed still, we would have been unaware. How the spider must have smiled to itself knowing that dinner was just above its roof.

 

 

 

 


	11. Stabbing The Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Spiders are nocturnal creatures and I have no reason to consider that this one might be any different.”

 

 

 

By the time we had finished establishing an underground map of the clearing it was late afternoon. “We need to make haste,” Baradhu announced. “Spiders are nocturnal creatures and I have no reason to consider that this one might be any different.”

 

 

Further stabbing of the ground revealed a central hub. A feeler dripping with green slime shot out through one of the holes. Baradhu swiftly hacked it in half and the stump hurriedly disappeared below the ground.

 

 

“Everyone get back. The nest is directly below us. Get behind the trees; it could burst through the ground at any moment.” Gildor looked every inch a leader as he commanded us to get back. “If it does, get ready to fight. You junior warriors; this fight is not for you. Stay back and keep yourselves safe.” I was more relieved than anyone. Never had I felt so keenly my inexperience.

 

 

“I do not know about any of you,” I said to my former friends, “but I am going to climb a tree and watch from there. The spider will not be able to climb a tree faster than we can leap to another one.”

 

 

“Good idea,” Eleredh said and skimmed up one of the trees that had not been previously uprooted. The others turned away and climbed up trees nearby. I joined Eleredh, simply because his tree was one I would have chosen to climb up myself.

 

 

“I am glad the elflings are far away from here,” I said experimentally, wondering if Eleredh would respond.

 

 

“Me too,” came the gruff reply. He looked towards the horizon. “I think they are coming back.” It was a tiny thawing but one nonetheless.

 

 

“Where?” I leapt up to the higher branches. “I can’t make them out clearly but they are moving fast.” I called to Baradhu. “There is a procession approaching. We can barely see them, but they seem to be making haste.”

 

 

“Perhaps King Oropher has sent reinforcements,” Gildor mused. “Although the elflings and their minders would have only reached a few miles away from here, not far enough to even alert the outriders from the palace bounds.”

 

 

“Let’s get on with the job in hand,” Baradhu said. “If they are reinforcements then they can help, but if they are the elflings returning I would like to have this spider dead and burning before they get here.” He looked up at us. “You lot! When you can make them out, let us know who they are.”

 

 


	12. Fountain of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found it most disconcerting that he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the fight.

 

 

 

We watched from our vantage point. The far off procession was moving fast but we still could not identify them. Instead, we watched as the warriors poked at the ground. They were calling insults and deliberately goading the spider with their spears so it would reveal its position. Under the ground, we could hear a loud chittering and a rumbling of the earth; this was accompanied by a gratingly sharp sawing noise.

 

 

The ground split, enabling the warriors to jump back just before the creature burst upwards with a suddenness that made my heart jump. The warriors laughed as they aimed their spears at the massively swollen abdomen. The spider was not to be outdone though. It swept around and decapitated a warrior who was picking up his spear for a second throw. Blood gushed upwards like a fountain from the warrior’s neck before his body fell to the ground. So swift was his death that it seemed as if the body had not realised, and it fell with a grace that I would not have thought possible in a being that was already dead.

 

 

None of the spears could pierce the abdomen; neither could the arrows some of the archers fired at it from the trees. They jumped down and pulled their swords out instead. Baradhu shouted that everyone should aim between the joints. “The lung slits are under the creature. A couple of spears should do it,” he shouted as he jumped into the hole the spider had just left.

 

 

“Ada,” Arasdir shouted. He glared at me. “If my ada is killed I will never forgive you. In fact, I will hunt you down and slit your throat.”

 

 

“You could try,” I shot back, unable to tolerate his behaviour anymore. “You might want to hope I do not slit your throat first.”

 

 

“Be quiet, both of you,” Eleredh ordered. “Baradhu is doing his job. Thranduil did not put the spider here and our warriors would have had to fight it at some point. Perhaps we were meant to save the Wanderers and that is why Thranduil had the dream.”

 

 

“Thank you,” I said wearily. In the distance, the procession was becoming clearer. I could not see their faces but the procession consisted of a company of warriors riding hell for leather towards us. “The Amon Lanc warriors are coming,” I shouted to the warriors on the ground.

 

 

They seemed not to hear me. Many were busy on the spider’s back, trying to stab the abdomen with their spears. Gildor was in front, taunting it with his spear; he had already chopped off the other pedipalp feeler with his sword. If anything, the spider wanted to kill him first. He successfully drew it away from the hole so Baradhu could ram spears into its two lung slits. The spider lunged at Gildor as soon as the spears drove deep into its abdomen. It was more furious than ever and probably in a lot of pain as well. The chittering noise became almost unbearable in its loudness, and its fangs dripped with green venom. Baradhu got out of the hole, with the help of a couple of warriors who hauled him up. He had a wide grin on his face as they congratulated him and pulled away the strands of silk that the spider had shot from her spinnerets when he stabbed her.

 

 

Gildor laughed as he taunted the spider further. As it advanced, he jumped back. I found it most disconcerting that he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the fight. What is it with these old warriors, I wondered; none of them seemed to care that they could be facing the most horrific death.

 

 

Several of the warriors jumped onto the spider’s abdomen and tried to stab through the neck separating the abdomen from the cephalothorax. Gildor shot his sword into one of the creature’s eyes, causing it to rear up and then fall heavily down again. He did not try to retrieve his sword, instead he picked up a stray spear and speared the creature’s other eye. The only eyes it could see from now were the two smaller ones each side of the now defunct larger main eyes. Gildor was now weaponless, so he skipped to the side and joined a group of warriors who were doing their best to hack away the leg joints. It must have been like hacking away at mithril. The swords were sustaining more damage from the hits than the spider’s exoskeleton.

 

 

“I have stabbed its lungs,” Baradhu shouted to the warriors; he still had bits of silk hanging from his hair, face and chest. “It must run out of air at some point.” He ran forward and kicked the spears protruding from the underside of the spider’s abdomen. It reared up, seemingly in agony, although it is somewhat hard to tell what is going on with a spider.

 

 

The procession was less than a minute away. The spider moved closer to our tree. I pulled out my slingshot and aimed a steel ball at one of its eyes. Eleredh followed my lead and pulled out his slingshot as well. Down on the ground the warriors slung some ropes around the spider’s back legs on both sides, so they could drag it away. The steel balls hit the spider’s smaller eyes and it reared up to attack our tree. The warriors took advantage of the raised body and tightened the ropes around its legs so that it lost balance. They ran to either side of the clearing and tied the ropes fast to the trees. The spider thrashed about as more ropes were thrown across its body and around its legs. Soon the spider was held fast, although it seemed to me that the trees would not stay rooted for much longer, so strong was the spider’s agitation.

 

 

 

 


	13. The Last Minute.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge cheer erupted from us all.

 

 

 

The Amon Lanc warriors rode into the clearing, headed by my Nana and Ada. “Hello,” I shouted.

 

 

“What are you junior warriors doing up here?” Ada called up to us in the trees. “Get down here and help kill this spider.” He smiled so we would know he was joking. For a moment, I wondered if he had been serious. “Baradhu, you are covered in white crap.”

 

 

“Your Majesty, I am covered in spider silk. I jumped into the hole it had just left, and when I speared it through the abdomen it blasted a load of silk over my head and chest.”

 

 

“That was astonishingly brave of you, but totally expected of my best warrior. Is this the only spider?”

 

 

“Thank you. Yes, my Lord, we have seen no evidence of any other spiders, but that does not rule out the possibility they exist.”

 

 

“It’s dead,” one of the warriors shouted joyfully. “The spider is dead.”

 

 

I looked over at the spider. The warriors had hacked away at the exoskeleton until it had broken. The legs did not move and all was quiet. A huge cheer erupted from us all. Quickly I got down from the tree and went to see my parents.

 

 

Gildor walked up to us. “Your son has been extremely brave. He has the makings of an excellent warrior. I would be happy for him to join my Wanderers if he ever wants to seek a wider range of experience.” He looked at me. “Your friend in the tree can come too, but not the other ones. They did not distinguish themselves.”

 

 

“My son and his friends are on a charge for being incompetent at team work. Your son is not of that number and neither is Eleredh, who has distinguished himself at the last moment.” Baradhu did not look happy.

 

 

“I think this would have been a learning experience for all of them,” Ada said. “Perhaps they have grasped the value of team building now it is all over. In any case, you are the Captain of the Guard, so you will do as you see fit without interference from me.”

 

 

“Yes, my Lord,” Baradhu replied, knowing that Ada had indeed just implied the direction he should follow, regardless of his final words.

 

 

“We need to find the spider’s larder,” Gildor said. “There may be more spiders down there, probably not as big as this one but sizeable enough to give a nasty bite or even kill.”

 

 

Nana knelt down and placed her ear to the ground. After about twenty seconds, she stood up and pointed to the far side of the clearing. “I can hear groaning in that direction.”

 

 

“Then let’s go over and see if we can find it,” Ada said pleasantly. He put his arm around my shoulder. “Your nana is especially good at listening for spiders. I believe she has a few in her family tree.” Ada chuckled at his joke while Nana told him not to be so naughty. “Come on, my dear,” he said to her. “Let’s kill some of your distant relatives. You must promise me that you will not be too upset.”

 

 

“Take no notice everyone,” Nana said with a broad smile. “My husband does so love his little jokes.” She put her arm through his and gave him a sunny smile. Normally that would have made him jump, but he did not do so today.

 

 

The groaning noise grew stronger as we approached. The warriors listened with ears to the ground and motioned for us to go where the noise was loudest. We stood at the side of the mound looking down at the ground, as if something might appear at any moment.

 

 

“We shall dig here,” Gildor said to a couple of his warriors, who were already holding shovels and ready to go.

 

 

 

 


	14. The Larder of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air smelt exactly as it had in my dream.

 

 

 

We stood to the side while the warriors dug the earth away. They threw the soil to the side and there was quite a mound in place before they broke through to the larder. The sight that met my eyes was very similar to the one in my dream. A line of cocoon-like objects lay on the ground. Near the tunnel opening lay the top half of Duinel’s body. At the far end, the horse that was captured when the spider first surprised the patrol from Amon Lanc moved slightly. Its entrails were spread over the ground, its belly appeared ripped open, and yet it twitched.

 

 

“Get some lanterns down here,” Gildor called as he drew his sword. Happily, Gildor’s warriors had already pre-empted the need for lanterns and had retrieved them from the carts while the others were digging. The lanterns were lowered down into the hollow. “I cannot see any spiders,” Gildor said thoughtfully. As he leaned over for a better look I wondered how he would look naked. As my leggings bulged, I bemoaned my lack of control. The leather armour covered that area of my body and I was heartily glad it did so.

 

 

“Lord Gildor, we have unpacked the alcohol, just in case we need to set fire to whatever is down there,” one of the elves said.

 

 

“Let’s get down there,” Ada said. “The quicker we deal with this the better.”

 

 

“There could be spiders down there,” Nana protested.

 

 

“There could be,” Ada agreed. He looked at Gildor. “We will kill the horse and push it into the tunnel. For now, our warriors can collect their spears together and jam them down in front of the tunnel opening to create a fence. If there is another spider we should have enough time before it breaks through.”

 

 

Baradhu gave the order and the warriors collected the spears together. A whole pile of them was handed to Baradhu, which he thrust downwards to block off the tunnel opening. The upper ends were tied together and held in place. Baradhu and a couple of his warriors braced themselves, as if expecting something large and heavy to throw itself against the metal shafts, while Ada and Gildor jumped down into the hole.

 

 

“Thranduil, get down here and learn from me,” Ada called. “No experience should be wasted.”

 

 

“Be careful and stay by Ada,” Nana said to me.

 

 

I jumped down into the hole. The air smelt exactly as it had in my dream. A cloying, sweet rottenness hung in the air, filling me with the utmost revulsion. The fence made of spears had nothing behind it, so we were safe for now. “That cocoon is moving,” I said quickly.

 

 

“Open the front of the cocoon and see who it is,” Ada ordered as he drove his dagger into the back of the horse’s head. “We are busy.” The horse did not make a sound. Ada shook his head and announced that the animal was dead.

 

 

I stepped forward and sliced open the front of the cocoon with my dagger, fearing what I would see. As I pulled the strands apart two eyes looked up at me. I tore the strands apart with my fingers until his head was uncovered. I knew him. He was about ten years older than me and an elf I admired for his quickness and strength.

 

 

“Salahir! I will get you out of here,” I cried as I sought to cut away his bonds.

 

 

“Thranduil, stop,” he said urgently. “The spider pierced my insides. Something is growing inside me. Kill me, for I fear to know what it is.”

 

 

“We can save you,” I said, knowing my words were a lie.

 

 

Behind me Ada and Gildor had finished moving the horse into the tunnel.

 

 

“I do not want to suffer,” Salahir said. “I can feel it. Valar, kill me now! It hurts...”

 

 

Gildor leapt to my side. His strong arm pulled Salahir’s head up by the braid and drove his dagger through the base of his skull, ending his life instantly. Ada was already tearing away the tops of the other cocoons. The reaction was always the same. Something was growing inside the warriors and they begged us to end their lives. Ada and Gildor went down the line, killing the occupants of the cocoons while I looked on in horror.

 

 

A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me upwards. Nana pulled me towards her and said that there were some things that no elf should see. My hand wiped the tears from my eyes, a swift action that I hoped no one saw.  Ada and Gildor leapt out of the hole and ordered the elves holding the alcohol to pour it over the bodies, stressing that they should not jump down into the hole.  

 

 

Along the lengths of the cocoons spread dark stains followed by frantic movement under the silk. The parasitic spiderlings had burst through the bellies of their hosts and were chewing their way through the silk. The alcohol splashed over the cocoons and onto the ground. Everyone stood back as a lit lantern was thrown into the hole and smashed on the ground. The flames spread quickly, rising upwards so high that I wondered if the overhanging tree might catch on fire. Below us, we could hear the shells of the spiderlings cracking before finally bursting.

 

 

“This is not a day of celebration,” Ada said. “We have won an astounding and important victory, but we have also suffered the loss of those close to us. There will be a period of mourning lasting for the usual three months.” Ada turned to me. “This will affect your begetting day. We will have the family celebration, but the official one will be held after the period of mourning ends.”

 

 

“All right,” I replied, not really caring.

 

 

“That gives you three more months to think about who will teach you the ways of love on your begetting night,” he whispered in my ear. 

 

 

“I think I have already decided.”

 

 

“May I ask who?”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

“I think I already know,” Ada said and smiled enigmatically.

 

 

He was not going to trick me like that. “Oh well, pointless telling you then. Isn’t it?”

 

 

Ada gave me his, ‘we have not finished this discussion’ look before walking away to join Gildor.

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Sentry Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anything to report?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

 

 

 

We rode back to Amon Lanc after filling in the larder hole. We left the occupants in there and built a sort of cairn with the shields that belonged to the dead warriors. Later on we would return with large rocks and build a more permanent memorial. The ropes would be removed from the trees as soon as the roots had taken hold again, if they ever did. After searching the area for runaway spiderlings, just in case we missed any, we filled in the tunnels and made for home. After travelling well into the night we stopped in a clearing about ten miles from where we encountered the spider.

 

 

Baradhu told me that now I was an experienced warrior I should take a turn at sentry duty. Nothing could be as bad as that which I had already experienced, so I was more than happy to do so. Below me the elves unpacked bedrolls and shared the last of the waybread. I ate mine while sitting up a tree. I was to stay on watch for two hours before being relieved, which I did. Nothing happened, for which I was profoundly grateful.

 

 

Gildor climbed up into the branches. He smelt of earth and spring flowers, like a fresh wind blowing through daffodils and tree blossoms. “Anything to report?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. In his hand, he held a string of beads, a rod, and some long white cords.

 

 

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to his hand.

 

 

“I am making a sunhat for one of the elflings,” he replied. “We make new ones for the elflings every year and we all take our turn. In two hours, I will give it to the next sentry and he will carry on with it. Hopefully, it will be finished by the morning. The sun is quite strong at midday and no elfling wants sunburn.”

 

 

“A small piece of normality in the strangeness that has surrounded us,” I said.

 

 

“Your ada said, just before, that you wish me to teach you the ways of love on your begetting night. I will do it, but you should have asked me yourself.” Gildor looked enquiringly. “I know I am awesome, but I have always tried to maintain an air of approachability.”

 

 

I gasped with surprise. “I have never said who I want to show me the ways of love, not to him nor anyone else.”

 

 

“Really?” Gildor said with a rakish chuckle. “And yet you do.”

 

 

My face reddened and I felt uncomfortably hot. “I do not want to be holding this conversation.”

 

 

Gildor moved closer. “When I get down from this tree I will tell your ada that we did not discuss the matter. I will say that we had a conversation about macramé instead because you seemed rivetingly interested in it.”

 

 

“He won’t believe you. I hate macramé.”

 

 

“Really? How odd. Your nana said you loved the little teddy bear I made for your fifth birthday. She said you called it Legolas and cuddled it to sleep every night. Apparently, you still have it.”

 

 

“I was five. I knew no better.” As much as I fancied Gildor, I also was infuriated by him. “I am going to bed now. See you in the morning.” I jumped down from the tree. My bedroll was next to my parents. I marched over and pulled it away, before storming over to the other side of the camp and laying it out. How dare Ada interfere in my private life. On the other hand, now I had done this he would know that Gildor must have said something about my begetting day. I picked up my bedroll and crept back, hoping that neither of my parents had noticed.

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is not always about what you said but what everyone thinks you said..."

 

 

 

 

The next morning we made our way back to Amon Lanc, arriving early afternoon. Crowds of elves greeted us. Gildor was dressed up, looking every inch the ruler of a large wandering nation. His horse kept in line with those of my parents as we entered the palace bounds.  

 

 

I rode directly behind, looking as often as I could at the elf who caused my nether regions to harden with uncontrolled abandon. Such a powerful back. His braid hung down, flipping this way and that as the horse trotted, but in no way did it obscure the view. His strong hands gripped the reins lightly and as he turned his face he smiled. I think he knew I was looking.

 

 

He was right, I would choose him to teach me the ways of love, and yet I had no idea why I had decided to ask him. Perhaps I admired his strength, not just physical but mental as well. Or perhaps I was enamoured of the many facets of his character; here was an elf who would kill without question so long as the conditions were right and proper, yet he would make a sunhat for a small elfling. Maybe my decision was based upon him being an enigma. No matter how much I thought I knew him, I knew nothing at all. Gildor had told Ada that we discussed macramé, never mentioning our begetting day discussion. Because of that I knew he could be trusted to keep a confidence, to not discuss what we did after he had taught me what I needed to know.

 

 

Ada announced the period of mourning to the crowds. He gave them the bad news first. Then he told the crowd that my begetting day celebration would be postponed for the next three months, even though it was tomorrow. “We will have a muted celebration to show respect for the dead. Prince Thranduil suggested that we should and I agreed.”

 

 

“When did I agree...?” I said to Nana.

 

 

“Ada is preparing you for kingship.” Nana told me. “It is not always about what you said but what everyone thinks you said. Elves will believe what they want to believe. Your ada is telling them what they want to think and now they will know that you are kind, thoughtful, and considerate with regards to the families of the dead, even if you are not.”

 

 

“But that is lying.”

 

 

“Well done for being so intelligent,” Nana replied scornfully.

 

 

“All leaders play a double game,” Gildor said. “You have to pick out the truth and then disregard the rest. Valar forbid if anyone actually told only the truth, I would not know what to think.”

 

 

“Perhaps Thranduil could spend some time with you?” Nana said to Gildor. Inside a thrill of anticipation coursed through me. “You could teach him the ways of elves.”

 

 

Gildor gave me a smile that made the hairs on my arms stand to attention. “Would you agree that I could help develop your skills in the ways of elves? I am willing to do so. One’s parents can only teach so much and it is always better to have an alternative point of view.”

 

 

“Then we shall start tomorrow.”

 

 

Nana smiled approvingly and rode off to join Ada.

 

 

“What time tomorrow?” I asked, hoping that I did not have to get up early.

 

 

Gildor gave me his rakish grin and laughed softly. My nether regions turned rock hard and my insides rippled like a wobbly jelly. “Bed time.” He winked, knowing exactly the effect he had upon me, then rode away.

 

 

“Come on begetting day,” I said softly in my head, before riding over to join him.

 

 


	17. Epilogue

 

 

 

In a deep hole underground, below a clearing in the Greenwood, a mass of tiny spiders gathered, silent and watching, filled with hate for the ones who killed their mother. She had led them there after they burst free from the horse’s belly. They had not been found, and neither would they. Not yet, anyway.

 

 

Their time would come. Until then, they waited...

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
